Stole!
by frostygossamer
Summary: Sam is mudnapped from the back yard! Dean escapes to go rescue him. A two-shot addition to the Walkies!verse. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Sam is mudnapped from the back yard! Dean escapes to go rescue him. A two-part addition to the Walkies!verse.

A/N: This is a short fourth story from my Walkies!verse. If you haven't read 'A Walkies On The Wild Side' you should read that first.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, its fandom, its characters or anything connected to them. I do not make money or profit in any way from this story.

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Stole! (Chapter 1) by frostygossamer

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It was a balmy summer's day in Holy City, when Sam wandered out into the back yard of Castiel's home to enjoy an afternoon's sunbathing. Not that it wasn't always sunny in Heaven, but this was an exceptionally fine day. So fine in fact that his friend Dean had eschewed sunbathing in favour of laying full-length on the kitchen floor, to cool his naked belly on the marble tiles. Their master, Castiel, was upstairs taking a long, cold shower. His amour, Gabriel, was out of town on a top-secret mission.

Dean, flat out in the kitchen, lay with his eyes squeezed shut, listening with one ear to the happy chirruping of the garden critters and the warbling of various avians that drifted in through their back door mud-flap. All was peace.

"Life is so damn perfect," he mused to himself. "Could not be freakin' better."

Suddenly there was a loud screeching of tires from the street outside and the sound of thumping angel-boots. Dean jumped onto all fours, spiky hair standing on end.

"What? Who? Where?" he growled angrily. "Whassat noise? Newspaper delivery cherubs? Garbage collector angels?" Who dared disturb his peace?

There were a few seconds of scuffling noises and a muffled yelp, followed by the sound of heavy-footed types dragging something awkward to haul. Dean bounded to the mud-flap and stuck his head out, protecting and defending nerves sparking. He scanned the back yard suspiciously. Nothing bad there. Harrumph!

He turned around and was just wandering back over to his comfy spot, when a red flag shot up in his brain. Nothing bad? NOTHING BAD? How could he have missed the most obvious thing of all? Sam! WHERE IN FRICK WAS SAM?!

Dean galloped to the living room window and stared out at the street. A suspicious white van with a black driver's side door was just pulling away.

"Oh my Master! Freakin' NO!" he gasped.

~xXx~

Sam was laying stretched out on the lawn, beneath the shade afforded by the back yard fence. There the grass was still dewy and cold against his bare skin. He rolled on his side and slowly rubbed his full belly with one hand. He and Dean had had leftover pizza for lunch, which Sam adored, and he had STUFFED himself so he could hardly move.

He was just drifting off into dreamland, when his peace was disturbed by the sound of shod feet running right nearby. He opened one curious, sleepy eye and was shocked rigid by the realization that the shoes' owners were IN HIS BACK YARD!

Two big ruffian angels grabbed him and held him down, while a third jammed a gunny sack down over his head. Sam struggled mudfully and tried to yowl for help, but all he earned for that was a smack on the head with an angry fist, and he fell insensible.

~xXx~

The four reprobate half-angel criminals hauled the dead-weight of the huge muddie into the back of their anonymous van, and sped away from Castiel's leafy suburb. They chortled to themselves as they drove.

"Great big mudder we got ourselves today, huh?" one said.

"Yeah," another agreed. "He'll put up a good fight in training. Fine sport for our mudders."

A third guffawed wickedly. "Shame HE's not gonna go in the pit. Woulda made one helluva pit-mudder himself, I reckon, big freaker like him. But he's just what we need for training our champ, right?"

"Yeah, right," the ringleader agreed. "Fresh fish for training's what we need. He'll make a great punching-bag. While he stays alive, that is."

They all laughed in an evil chorus. They were angel-demon hybrid mudfighters who organized fights between specially trained pit-muds for illegal cash.

Sam had fallen into the hands of the LOWEST scum in all Heaven.

~xXx~

Dean ran screaming for his master.

"Master! Master!" he shouted repeatedly, scratching frantically on the bathroom door.

Castiel opened the door, with a towel wrapped around his waist. A cloud of steam followed him into the hall.

"What is it, Dean?" he demanded. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

Dean's green eyes were big with anxiety.

"Master, Sam gone! Master, Sam gone!" he cried over and over.

Castiel sighed. "What's going on? And where's Sam?" he asked, suddenly noticing Dean was on his own.

The angel hurried on some pants and wandered downstairs, opening the back door and peeking outside, where he had last seen his larger pet.

"Sam? SAM?!" he called. "Where in Heaven are you, Sam boy?"

No reply. No answering yelp. No Sam.

"Strange," Castiel pronounced, now perplexed. "Wonder where the big goofball's gotten himself to."

He glanced down at Dean who was sitting at his feet, eyes like saucers, kneading the floor worriedly. Suddenly a wave of disquiet washed over the angel.

"Dean? Where's Sam?" he demanded.

After a quick but thorough search of the house, Castiel ran out into the back yard and then out to the front of the house to stare hopelessly up and down the street.

"Oh my Father!" he declared. "Sam's GONE!"

~xXx~

Sam woke up in a dark, damp and dirty shed, laying on a piece of sacking in a CAGE! He sat up, as best he could in such a low cramped space, and peered around in the gloom. The shed contained five other cages like his, each confining a mud-monkey. Four of his fellow inmates were laying on the dirt, asleep, unconscious, even dead for all Sam could tell.

The fifth cage contained a skinny muddie with an unfortunate coiffure. Sam could tell, because the stranger wore a collar like his own, that he was also a pet. He was sitting with his back to Sam, his head bowed.

Sam coughed. "'Lo, mudz," he hissed in a half-whisper. "'Lo there, you in the corner."

The other muddie shuffled around on his bare butt and gave him a faint smile.

"'Lo there, buddy," he replied. "You awake, huh? How you doin'?"

"Not so good," Sam answered, rubbing at the boo-boo on his head. "Where is this place?"

The stranger grinned. "Ah," he said. "Dude, that I dunno. But I do know WHAT it is."

"So what is it?" Sam demanded. "Is it the... vet's maybe? or..." He couldn't think of anyplace worse.

His new acquaintance shuffled closer to Sam. As close as his own cage allowed.

"Dude," he said conspiratorially. "This is PET HELL!"

"Pet freakin' Hell?!" Sam squeaked.

The stranger nodded. "Yup. Pet Hell, mudz. Place fur BAD muddies when they're very, very bad. We're all pets here, ya know."

Sam's eyes popped. He started to panic. "So how we gonna freakin' get outta here?" he asked, tugging at the bars of his cage.

"Oh, we don't get outta here, mudz," the other muddie replied. "No one EVER gets outta here. Not ALIVE!"

Sam inhaled sharply and retreated to the back of his cage. What? It couldn't be true!

The skinny muddie chuckled mirthlessly. "Better get used to the idea," he said. "It's only a matter of time. Dude, they come for us all eventually. Every one of us."

Sam found himself unable to speak, much less reply.

"My master called me 'Ash', by the way," the stranger went on. "What did your master call you, huh?"

Sam found his voice again. "My master CALLS me 'Sam'," he responded, a little croakily. "'Lo, Ash."

"'Lo, Sam," Ash replied. "Better git yourself some sleep. You're gonna need ALL your damn strength."

~xXx~

As soon as it had sunk in that Sam was really missing, Castiel went back in the house and called the Holy City Police Department. The PD sounded a lot less interested after Castiel admitted that the missing person was in fact just a mud-monkey not an actual angel.

The officer at the end of the phone line took down Sam's details and promised Castiel that 'they would keep an eye out for a runaway of that description'. The worried angel was rather disappointed that the police didn't seem to take his case very seriously. But, just as he was about to terminate the call, the officer remembered something.

"Oh, and I ought to warn you, there have been some reports of mudnappings in your area."

"Mudnappings?" Castiel queried. "What do you mean 'mudnappings'?"

The officer adopted a professional delivering-bad-news tone.

"There is a known mudfighting ring operating in the general vicinity," he said. "They have been known to pick up stray creatures for, uh, practice fights. And they don't discriminate between ferals and pets."

"Practice fights?" Castiel quavered. "What practice fights?"

"They give stolen creatures to their champion mudders," he explained, "to, uh, spar with to the, uh, death."

"Oh Father!" Castiel shrieked. "Not Sam. Oh no, not my poor Sam!"

Dean, sitting at the angel's feet, jumped up startled, as Castiel flopped down on his couch, almost faint. Dean's master was upset. Dean was upset. Sam was gone and something had to be done. Someone was going to have to find Sam and, seeing his master's pathetic condition, Dean realized it was going to have to be him.

Dean was going to have to show the Alpha he was and save the day. AGAIN!

~xXx~

Sam could hear the half-angels gathering outside the shed. He could tell, by their snarling voices and wicked laughter, that they were BAD angels and not to be trusted, even by a good muddie like himself. No one here was going to save him and the others. He was going to have to save himself.

But what could he do? He needed a plan, but what? This whole situation was something Sam had never been in before. He had no idea what to do. He was going to have to wing it.

After a short while, the shed's door was flung open, and a large surly half-angel stomped in with a cudgel in his hand. He looked in Ash's cage, which was nearer the door, and ran the cudgel over the bars, producing an ear-splitting ringing sound. Ash cowered in the back of his cage whimpering. It made Sam angry. Sam hated to stand by and see another creature get scared. He kneeled up in his own cage and rattled the bars.

"Me! Me!" he shouted. "Leave him freakin' alone! Take me, not him!"

The nasty angel turned toward Sam, grinning evilly. He stalked over to Sam's cage and peered in.

"You're one pesky mudder, ain't ya?" he growled. "Maybe I should take you, huh?"

Sam straightened up bravely. "Yeah, yeah!" he yelped. "Freakin' take ME!"

The angel chortled and opened up Sam's cage, dragging him out by his collar, and yanked him toward the door. Sam followed him reluctantly but bravely.

As he passed Ash's cage, Ash caught his eye and mouthed, "Thanks, mudz," with trembling lips.

Outside in the sunlight, Sam was blinded for a moment before his eyes adapted, and he could see what was around him on the abandoned lot. He counted six half-angels of different ages, too many for him to fight alone. And, in a makeshift ring in the centre of the lot, a scary-looking mud-monkey. He was as tall as Sam but twice the weight in muscle, and his bare flesh was covered head to toe in scars, some old, some still raw.

Sam gulped. "Master!" he breathed, hopelessly, and then he sobbed, "Bye-bye, Dean."

~xXx~

While Castiel was on the phone to Gabriel, sobbing as he explained the situation to his lover and Sam's old master, Dean made his mind up that HE was going to run away and find Sam himself. He climbed out the mud-flap and ran around the house to the street. He had absolutely no idea where to find Sam, but he had to find him, or die trying.

Dean ran through the streets aimlessly for minutes, hours, following every white vehicle that passed for a few blocks. That was his only clue, the white van. Then, rounding one corner at breakneck speed, he almost ran into it, the white van with the black left-hand door. He had found THEM!

He ducked into some bushes, until he saw the four criminals emerge from a nearby front yard, dragging a sack containing a heavy, shapeless lump.

"Another snatched freakin' muddie," Dean guessed, correctly.

He waited until the van pulled away then followed it discretely, ducking and diving all the way to it's destination. Luckily the half-angels drove fairly slowly, so as not to attract attention from the angel highway police. Eventually they came to an abandoned warehouse and stopped the van, hauling the sack of muddie out the back and angelhandling it indoors.

Dean skulked outside watching, till he could figure out what was going on.

~xXx~

The fugly pit-mudder stood foursquare in the middle of the ring, cursing savagely under his breath. Sam guessed that he was probably deranged after years of this abuse, being forced to kill his own kind for the angels' sport. He would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't been so scared. No muddie should have had to do this. No master had the right to expect this from his muddie. No way! This was WRONG.

Someone grabbed a broom and jabbed it at Sam, pushing him cruelly toward the ring. Sam stumbled over the ropes and fell in the dirt. He scrambled up, dusting the filth off of his naked skin.

"Don't you worry about that, pal," the pit-mud drawled. "Gonna have worse than a little freakin' dirt on ya soon. Soon won't see it for freakin' BLOOD!"

Sam quailed but did his best to hide it. "Oh yeah?" he retorted. "Who sez?"

"Me! Gonzo!" the pit-mud laughed manically. "'S me gonna freakin' KILL ya, lil' smexy-ass!"

Sam narrowed his eyes and snarled. "Dean's the only mud gets to call me that."

His adversary grinned. "Not anymore he freakin' won't," he grunted.

Sam adopted a defensive posture. This mudder was way too big for him to have any chance in a tussle, but at least he could go down fighting and die with dignity.

There, in the dust of a cruel angel's lot, Sam would lay down his life.

TBC

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A/N: Will big floppy gentle Sam survive the fight? Second half tomorrow. N.B. Part 2 will contain a little rudeness.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The mud-fight begins. Is this the end of Sam?

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Stole! (Chapter 2) by frostygossamer

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The giant mud-monkey launched himself at Sam, teeth bared. He dug his especially sharpened fingernails into Sam's back, making Sam howl. They rolled on the ground, Sam continually ending up underneath. The huge mudderfricker pinned him in the dirt under his filthy scarred body, where he crushed out the air in Sam's lungs with his weight alone.

Sam scratched and bit, punched and kicked. He was giving the larger creature plenty of exercise but not so much trouble. The match was hardly fair. Sam wanted to scream for his master, but he knew it would do no good. His master was nowhere around. And he wanted to shout for Dean, but he knew he would never see Dean again.

"Please! No!" he gasped. "You don't wanna kill me. Wanna be your friend."

"Friend!" the pit-mud spat. "Ain't no freakin' friend. You're fresh meat. You're nuthin' and I'm gonna rip your throat out."

The enormous crazy mud-monkey flung Sam around like a rag doll, despite his own ample size. Sam had never had to fight such a damn big opponent before. In fact Sam hadn't really fought anybody much before. He was a friendly, peaceable muddie who always tried to get along with a joke and a smile.

The monster cruelly ground his hips down against Sam's naked belly, making Little Sam stir involuntarily. Sam hated to feel himself aroused by that brute, but it gave him a desperate idea. Fighting for breath, he dragged in a lungful of oxygen.

"No! Please!" he hissed. "Lemme go. Don't wanna fight, mudz. Why dontcha plumb me instead, huh? It'll be freakin' good."

The big mudder pulled back and glared down into Sam's face.

"Freakin' fag-ass!" he growled. "Want me to plow ya? See how ya like it when I stick my maulers in your freakin' porkhole and tear ya in two halves."

The huge mudder gripped both calloused mitts around Sam's throat, choking and squeezing his windpipe. As he straddled his body, his stone-hard member dug into Sam's abdomen. The sadistic freaker was getting sexed up off of HURTING the innocent muddie. He didn't NEED to share.

Sam's face turned beet red, sweat beading on his bare skin. He pulled ineffectually at the monster's iron fists, trying to pry them away so he could gasp a breath. He kicked out with his long legs, but he couldn't shift the gargantuan mudder off of him. His eyes were swimming in his head. He was starting to lose his grip on consciousness. Pretty soon he was going to be gone.

Squashed flat under the gargantuan pit-mudder, Sam could hear singing. It sounded to him like a beautiful angel chorus, or maybe the sweet sound of muddies keening, the way they did at his kennel when an old or sick muddie died. Or maybe it was just that his head was woozy and his ears were deafened by the rushing of soon to be spilled blood.

"This must be how it feels to die," Sam thought giddily. "Bye forever, Dean."

And then...

Suddenly a heavy weight landed on the behemoth's back. Arms wrapped around his body twisting him and rolling him over, beating on him. Teeth and nails tore at him. The giant loosened his grip on Sam's throat to fight off this new attack, and Sam was finally able to take a gasp of air.

The pit-mud roared with pain. Dean had his teeth sunk deep into the mudder's kneecap with a vicelike grip. The big mud-monkey writhed around, failing to shake him off. Sam wriggled free of the giant's carcass and rejoined the fight.

Between the two of them the two muddies managed to do a little damage to the fighting-mud. Not much, but just enough to catch him off balance and force him into a couple bad moves, losing his dominance of the battle.

Sam glanced up and he could see that the half-angels around them had broken off to fetch weapons to beat the new arrival. He saw his moment and took it. He leaped out of the ring, glancing over his shoulder to make damn sure Dean was following him, and the two muddies ran like their lives depended on it. And they probably did.

They ran as fast as their long legs could carry them, avoiding their pursuers by weaving through empty lots and back yards, until they fetched up at Castiel's house, panting so hard they couldn't think straight.

"Freakin' home!" Sam gasped, collapsing against the back door.

"Freakin' yeah!" Dean agreed.

~xXx~

After a couple minutes getting their breaths back in their own back yard, Sam and Dean re-entered the house quietly, via their mud-flap, and paused for a quick swig of water in the kitchen before proceeding to the living room.

Castiel and Gabriel were sitting together on the couch. The archangel had his arm around the sniffling angel and was trying to comfort him.

"It's gonna be alright, Cas honey," he was saying. "I've spoken to the HCPD and impressed on them the importance of this. They're on the case right now, looking for Sam AND Dean. I'm sure they'll find them. It's gonna be OK."

Gabriel had once again been using his archangelic influence to get things moving.

Castiel sighed sadly. "They said that they steal pet muddies to use as exercise for their trained fighting mud-monkeys. It's so unangelic. I can't believe this actually goes on here in Holy City."

"It doesn't go on LEGALLY, honey," Gabriel commented. "And when they find those criminals responsible they'll be going DOWN for a LONG time."

And by 'down' he meant ALL the way down, all the way to Hell, where they belonged.

"That won't get me my boys back," Castiel sobbed. "Poor Sam. And poor Dean, wherever he is."

Dean's heart couldn't bear it. He couldn't stand there in the doorway and watch his master looking so sad. He padded in along the back of the couch and sank to his knees, nuzzling Castiel's hand where it lay on the armrest. Castiel jumped like he had been electrocuted, startling Dean.

"Dean!" the angel cried, mouth hanging open for an instant. "You've come back."

"And so has Sam," Gabriel observed. "Panic over, huh?"

Castiel wiped his eyes and wagged a finger at his muddie.

"Dean, you've been such a BAD BOY. Why'd you run off like that and scare me?"

Dean shook his head vehemently. "Nuh-uh!" he denied. "Dean NOT bad!"

Sam, who was now slouching on the other end of the couch, draped over his old master, while Gabriel tickled his tummy, realized some explanation was in order.

"Not bad!" he insisted, attempting his version of rudimentary Enochian. "STOLE!"

"Stole?" Gabriel repeated a little bewildered. Then he noticed the big ding on his muddie's head. "Hey, Sam, you got a big bump on your noggin, boy. Hey, Cas, this guy's been worked over. He's all scratches and bruises."

Cas' eyes widened. "And poor Dean too! Those wicked mud-fighters! I knew it. They're not going to get away with this." And he was straight on the phone.

~xXx~

When Sam had made a valiant attempt to recount to Castiel, in broken Enochian, what had happened to him and to Dean, they led HCPD mud-handlers to the very address where it had taken place.

An hour later they were all standing on the vacant lot last occupied by the gang of mud-fight arrangers. It was now even more vacant. The half-angel gang had decamped, thankfully leaving the captured mud-pets still caged up in an outhouse. All of them, including the final arrival and Sam's new friend Ash, would now be returned to their rightful masters.

Unfortunately the remains of several not-so-lucky muddies were found buried on the lot.

Castiel was very proud of Sam, and of Dean for rescuing him.

"You're a couple of heroes, boys," he told them. "You've really done a good and brave deed today. I'm very proud of you both."

Dean was hoping that 'proud' translated into 'pie' pretty soon. That would be all the thanks HE would need. Sam just felt glad to be alive and reunited with his Dean.

~xXx~

The experience had taken a lot out of the two muddies. After such an exhausting day, they had fallen straight to sleep in their basket, curled up together skin on skin, even before their angel masters had sneaked off to bed.

An hour after the room had grown silent, Sam awoke suddenly and started to fidget, waking Dean.

"Whas wrong?" Dean asked irritably. "Tryna sleep. Keep those pointy freakin' elbows still, would ya?"

Sam groaned. "Need to go take a whiz," he said.

"Then go whiz, mudz," Dean grumbled, turning over onto his stomach.

That would teach the big, goofy-ass muddie to drink more than his share of their water. When Sam whined faintly, the smaller muddie sat up, now in a huff.

"Whatisit?" he demanded. "You gotta pee-pee, then go take a pee-pee. Know where the back yard is."

Honestly. Did he have to hold the lazy-ass muddie's hand and lead him to the shrubbery?

"Don't wanna go in the back yard, mudz," Sam pouted.

Dean fixed him with a sharp look. "Scared of the dark?" he asked in a judging tone.

"Nah," Sam retorted defensively. "But kinda scared of bad angels with sacks."

Dean gave a chuckle. "The bad angels with sacks are all GONE, mudz. Won't be back."

Sam sighed, still not convinced. "There are OTHER angels."

Dean nodded. "I guess, maybe," he conceded, then on a generous impulse he suggested, "Dude, use my tray, why don't ya. Hardly dampened it tonight."

Sam debated. "Could, I guess."

He got out of their basket, walked over to Dean's litter tray and inspected it. Then he climbed in and carefully situated his rear.

"Dude, don't laugh ifn I don't do this right," he warned.

Dean snickered, laying on his belly and peering up at him over the rim of their basket.

"'Course, mudz," he promised.

Sam let go a surprisingly ample golden stream, most of which actually remained within the purview of Dean's sandbox. Then he stepped out and carefully adjusted the position of the tray, to cover the small puddle that had escaped.

"Fair attempt," Dean pronounced. "It takes a certain skill."

Sam chuckled and trotted back to their sleeping basket, where Dean welcomed him back into a comfortable snuggle. The big muddie nuzzled his face into his friend's neck and sighed happily.

"So much better now. Thanks a lot, mudz," he murmured.

Dean smiled sleepily. "Next time we gotta go outside the house we go together, right? Long as we watch each other's backs, we'll be safe."

Sam yawned and agreed, "Long as we're together, we'll be fine."

"Uh-huh," Dean agreed. "Ain't that the truth."

"'S good havin' an Alpha," Sam thought. When he first agreed to be Dean's Beta he had only been humouring the bossy muddie, but now he realized being part of a pack was a GOOD thing.

"You wanna plug me?" he asked.

He was still feeling a little bad for having chickenheartedly offered himself to the killer mudder, like some mangy little mud-cur.

Dean yawned and then chuckled. "Why?" he asked playfully. "Your hole lonely?"

Sam pouted. "My hole's feelin' kinda mad at me. Tried to give him away."

Dean gasped. "To that nasty-ass brute-mudder?" he demanded.

"Uh-huh," Sam nodded, ashamed.

Dean marvelled at the quickness of his Beta's mind.

"Smart idea," he pronounced. "Mighta worked."

His Alpha's approval made Sam feel a little better about his lapse into self-sale.

"Yeah," he said. "Woulda overpowered him with my phuckability," he snickered.

Dean wriggled his eyebrows. "OK, mudz," he said. "You wanna do the head-down, butt-up thin'?"

Sam obediently assumed the position and Dean kneeled behind his naked butt. The sight of Sam's subordinate hole never failed to make Dean feel dominatorial. He leaned forward and licked at the little pink orifice. Sam shivered with delight. Dean really loved it when Sam shivered with delight. He poked his tongue down into the hole and circled it quickly, like he was lapping the last of the pie from his food bowl. Sam shuddered gratifyingly.

"Yummy!" thought Dean, and he did it again.

Sam giggled uncontrollably. "That's it, mudz," he quavered. "Tongue out that nigglesome hole. Show him he's still all yours."

Dean snickered. He liked that idea. He gave Sam the benefit of his tongue's full attention before replacing it with his usual implement. Sam sighed with pleasure as he felt it ram home.

"Know what, mudz?" he asked, as Dean drilled him in the appropriate fashion.

"What?" Dean demanded, only slightly interrupted in his rhythm.

Sam sighed. "When that mudder had me down in the dirt and I reckoned I was gonna die. Right then I wanted YOU more than Master," he confessed.

Dean paused, taken aback. "More than Master?" he asked, aghast.

"Yep," Sam affirmed. "More than Master. And when I had you in my head you CAME. Was like magic."

Dean raised an eyebrow as he resumed his motion. "Really?" he asked. "Like magic? 'S cool."

He was a practical mud-monkey, so Dean was dubious that magic could exist in a regular place like Heaven. But who knew?

"Uh-huh," Sam agreed. "Figure we musta connected, you and me. Like some kinda mind-talk thin'."

Dean shrugged. "Reckon that'd be cos I'm your Alpha," he suggested sensibly.

"Maybe," Sam concurred. "Or," he continued tentatively, "maybe it's cos we LOVE each other."

Dean paused from pumping Sam again for a doubtful moment. Hmm, Sam was back on his 'love' thing again. Still, telepathy was kind of cool.

"Kinda cool, I guess, huh?" he commented.

"Way cool!" Sam agreed happily. "Oo-ooh! Hey, mudz, made me spritz already!"

Dean growled in satisfaction, then after he had emptied HIS 'love' into Sam, they nestled down together to sleep, comfy in the thought that they shared a special love thing, but in a cool way.

The End

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A/N: If you like my Walkies!verse stories you'll be happy to know that I have plans for more in this 'verse.


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